


Look after him!

by EmmaSpencer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Anthea takes care of Mycroft, Broken Mycroft, Depression, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Mycroft no longer the British Government, Post-TFP, Suicide, Worried Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-15 14:38:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11233077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaSpencer/pseuds/EmmaSpencer
Summary: After the events in Sherrinford Mycroft loses his position. He feels lost, alone, he dosen't know how to cope with the situation.Anthea looks after him, tries to help him, but even she can't stop him.





	1. Mycroft

Mycroft was sitting in her sister's cell, not knowing where Sherlock was.  
'It's obvious that he is alive, Euros only wants me dead, not Sherlock. She loves him, but still...'  
After a while the door opened Anthea came in with armed men at her heals.  
"Good evening Sir."  
"Sherlock?"  
"He is fine, she took them to Musgrave."  
'Musgrave, of course; back to where it started.'  
"And Euros?"  
"She is in custody, they are bringing her back. The new staff will be here shortly; Lady Smallwood is in charge."  
Mycroft waited until they let him out, he sat in silence during the helicopter ride and only spoke when they got into the car.  
"Can I go home, or they want me in tonight?"  
"They want to speak with you now, Sir."  
"I see."  
'Of course they want to. They want an explanation, and my head. Hopefully we won't get to that. No, they wouldn't do that, they need me... Although I made quite a mess, Euros got out several times, the whole personnel of Sherrinford dead. I made it possible, I failed. Not that they didn't fail before, oh they did; they did! And how many times I prevented them to cause disasters...The question remains, are they willing to overlook my failure...'

Mycroft was escorted through the familiar corridors; he needed to be escorted, his clearance was revoked, his pass was useless. He was seated in the middle of the room, in the most uncomfortable chair, in front of him sat his colleague with serious look.  
'The jury.'  
"Mr. Holmes!"  
"You want an explanation."  
"Naturally."  
Mycroft told them everything, and answered all the questions. He waited in the corridor while they discussed his future; they talked for quite a while. Mycroft was on his foot for more than 24 hours, he was exhausted. He was pacing on the corridor to keep himself awake. After three hours he was finally called back. He was standing in the middle of the room; Lady Smallwood spoke. He couldn't really pay attention to what she said.  
"...We got to the conclusion that this situation could have been avoided...The fact that she is your sister clearly clouded your judgment...  
'Clearly not.'  
"...You granted her wishes in exchange for information that could have been obtained in other ways..."  
'Sure, but it would have been too late.'  
"...You acted without consulting any of us in all occasions, including tonight's events. Tonight's events which resulted in the death of 39 people. Your actions were ill-considered, reckless...  
'I know, I know.'  
"...After careful consideration we decided, that your services are no longer needed."  
"What?"  
"I'm sorry Mr. Holmes, we had no other choice. "  
He didn't answer.  
"Your parents arrived; you can talk with them in your old office."  
"Thank you." he walked out.  
'No, no, no. They...it can't be. No! What am I going to do! They can't...' 

After the meeting with his parents, he looked around in the office, if there was anything he should take home. There was nothing. He put on his coat, took his umbrella and walked out. In the corridor he was met by Anthea, she was carrying a box.  
"Oh, my dear; it is time for me to say goodbye. It was a pleasure working with you. Thank you for everything. I wish you all the best for your further. I sincerely hope you will have the luck to work with someone less problematic than me. Thank you once again."  
"Thank you Sir, but I'm leaving too."  
"No, they can't do that to you! There is absolutely no need for that. I talk to Lady Smallwood..."  
"No need, Sir. I resigned. I can't work with her after what they did to you."  
"Are you sure about this?"  
"I am. Do you need a ride home, or to the hospital?"  
"Home, please."  
She drove Mycroft home.  
"Thank you Anthea."  
"If you need anything, anything at all, just call me."  
Mycroft smiled a faint smile, and got out of the car.

The house was empty, the remains of Sherlock's little play was still visible. He slowly walked up to his room, cautiously looking around; he was alone. He was standing in the middle of the room, considering his options, shower or sleeping; when his phone rang.  
"Hello."  
"Mr. Holmes I'm sorry to bother you, but I need a little help, with the situation."  
"DI Lestrade, I'm sorry but I can't help you. I can give you one of my colleague's number she might be able to assist you."  
"Thanks. Is everything all right?"  
"Of course, just considering my involvement others have to handle the matters."  
"I see, but you, are you all right?"  
"Perfectly fine. Why do you ask?"  
"Sherlock asked me to make sure you are looked after."  
Mycroft let out a small laugh. "Good day to you Detective Inspector." he put the phone down.  
Shower it is! He was exhausted, but he couldn't fell asleep; his thought constantly taking him back to Sherrinford. At one point he must have fallen asleep, because he was woken by the curtains being pulled open.  
"Mycroft are you awake?"  
"Now I am Sherlock. What do you want?"  
"I brought you food."  
"Very kind of her. I'll eat it later, please let me sleep." he buried his face into the pillows.  
"As you wish." he was on his way out.  
"Sherlock, curtain!" he ignored it.  
Mycroft was too tired to get up, he quickly drifted back to sleep, only to be waken again by a nightmare. He got out of bed, and headed to the kitchen. He made tea, left the food and sat in his office.

'What now? What am I going to do? What? I was so sure of myself. How could I be such a fool? I thought they need me, turns out they don't. I thought I was important, I was wrong, so wrong. I thought...I was just a pawn, nothing more, I'm nobody.  
I know most of them wanted me removed for ages. They eagerly waited for this opportunity and I handed it to them. I brought it on myself; or Sherlock did. If...no, it was my fault, no one else's...What now?  
I can find another job; not that I need it financially, but my mind needs to work. I need to work...I need. I need to be challenged...nothing else can offer me that. I can't solve crimes like my brother, boring petty crimes; the legwork, talking to people! No, absolutely not!  
How about being the new consulting criminal? They wouldn't like that, not a bit. Neither do I.  
Maybe teaching, changing the mind of the new generation. No, students; they are even worse than politicians.  
Working for the Americans? They always wanted me...I can't, I won't.  
There is absolutely nothing for me, nothing!'  
The tea was cold already, he took it back to the kitchen, put the food into the fridge, and returned to his bed. 

Next day Anthea woke him.  
"Good afternoon Mr. Holmes."  
"Afternoon?"  
"Yes Sir, it's 14:30."  
"Really?"  
"You haven't eaten a thing."  
Mycroft didn't answer.  
"Mr. Holmes..."  
"I didn't feel well."  
"You've been on your feet for two days without eating, or drinking a thing, of course you are not well. You have to eat. I call Dr. Bright."  
"No, there is no need for that."  
"Then you'll get up and eat."  
"All right, all right."  
Mycroft got up, and followed her to the kitchen. She watched him carefully while he ate.  
"Mr. Holmes you can't do this to yourself."  
"Mycroft."  
"Pardon?"  
"Call me Mycroft; I'm not your boss anymore. And I can do whatever I want. No one cares."  
"No Mycroft, you can't. I care; Sherlock and your parents care too."  
Mycroft laughed dryly. "No they don't, I can assure you."  
Anthea knew that she can't reason with him, not now. She walked out of the kitchen.  
"Where are you going?" Mycroft called after her.  
Anthea walked through the house, searching all the rooms.  
"What are you doing? Anthea!"  
"Taking care of you." She answered collecting any cigarettes, and alcohol she could find.  
"You can't."  
"Then try stopping me." He just followed her through the remainder of the house.  
"I'll come back in the morning. You should take a shower Mycroft."  
He just stared at her with confusion. "Why?"  
"Because it might do you good."  
"Why do you care about me?"  
"I always did, you know that."  
"But why?"  
"Do I need a reason?" Mycroft tilted his head. "All right; at first I didn't want to lose my job. Later I got fond of you; after all we spent almost every waking hour together. So I continued to look after you. I have to go now, see you tomorrow Mycroft."  
Mycroft went back to bed.  
'There is no need for a shower. It won't do any good.'

Anthea woke him in the next morning.  
"Mycroft! Wake up! Mycroft!"  
He didn't answer, just pulled the cover over his head.  
"Oh, no, no." she grabbed Mycroft's hands and pulled him out of bed.  
"Get up!" he didn't move. Anthea dragged him to the shower, and opened the cold water.  
"HEY!"  
"Good morning to you too. Take a shower!" she waited till he was dressed. "Now, breakfast."  
They were sitting at the kitchen table.  
"I talked with Dr. Bright."  
"I'm perfectly fine."  
"No you are not. He suggested that you should see a..."  
"NO!"  
"Mycroft, he has a point."  
"I SAID NO!" his plate ended on the floor.  
"Mycroft..."  
"Get out! Leave me alone! I don't want to see you here again!" he marched up to his room and closed the door.

'What are they thinking; I'm not mad, I don't need a therapist. There is nothing wrong with me. I don't need it...What good that will do, talking to a stranger. They can't help, not to me. No! Why would anyone care about my problems, no one does, never. Never! Not even my parents, how many times I tried to talk to mummy; only to be dismissed, or told to grow up and stop whining. I'm on my own, my parents hate me, my brother...my own brother calls John family, lets him mock me, laugh at me...He is more family to him, than me. I'm his brother! He is my little brother, mine! I was there for him, always, even when he didn't want it. But he favours John, whom he met some years back by accident...I'm all alone.  
Why do I care about it now? It never bothered me...Well it did; constantly. Look at me lying to myself...' he was woken by his office phone.  
He headed to answer it, but Anthea was already speaking.  
"I know it's tomorrow...No, absolutely not...You can't be serious...Then tell her the truth." she slammed the receiver down.  
'Anthea, what is she still doing here. What is tomorrow? Oh, yes the first Thursday of the month; tea with her Majesty.'  
"Don't you have somewhere else to be?"  
"No, Henry is in Paris on a Fashion show. It's five in the afternoon..."  
"Are they sending a car, or should I make arrangements."  
"You are not going."  
"But..."  
"No, you are not; end of discussion. You can't let them use you like this, after everything. They made a decision, now they have to bear the consequences. Come on, you need to eat."  
They ate in silence.  
"I'm sorry Mycroft, I just want to help."  
"I know, I know. I'm sorry I yelled at you."  
"It wasn't the first time." she smiled "I have to leave now. Are you going to be fine on your own?"  
"Of course."  
"I'll come and see you tomorrow. Promise me you'll eat."  
"I will."  
"Good. See you tomorrow."  
"Goodbye."  
He put away the plates and went back to his room.

'What now? All of my life I was working out alternatives for the problems; but I can't find one for myself. Obviously there is none...She won't understand it, she cares about me. Strange......Sherlock and my parents will be delighted. They hate me, I won't be able to disappoint them further, Sherlock won't have to suffer by my involvement...I wonder if they were ever truly proud of me. Sherlock could do anything, they loved him. Everything was my fault, he ODs, runs away it's my fault. I leave for university, and Sherlock closes himself off; my fault. Moriarty; my fault. I save the family from Euros, but I failed them. I should have let her...It would have been nice. No suffering...no torment in school, and later at home by Sherlock, no beating, no sleepless nights by his hospital bed...He never cared about me; the pain he caused me, he never knew...It's too much, I can't...I can't bare it.  
There is nothing for me, not any more. Nothing! I had a purpose that kept me sane, but not anymore. My brain...I need...  
There is only one thing I can do, well then, there is no need to prolong my agony.'

He slowly got up, took a shower and got dressed; putting on his favourite three piece suit. He walked around the house, taking care of the things; watering the plants; writing letters, checking the garden, closing the windows...  
Then he went to the sitting room, poured himself some whiskey; she couldn't find all of it. Sitting in his armchair, slowly drinking, savouring it.  
'Of course everything is settled. The funeral has been taken care of. Sherlock will get the money. DI Lestrade will get a reasonable amount for putting up with Sherlock. Anthea will get the house and everything in it. She can do whatever she wants with it; keep it, sell it. Well that's it.'  
He took out his phone and sent the same message to five people.  
'Look after him, please.-M'  
He rolled up his sleeves and took the razor. Without hesitation he made a long incision on his left arm, from the elbow to the wrist; one precise deep cut. Blood was pouring down his arm, the warm fluid covering everything. He vaguely felt the buzzing of his phone. 'Anthea most likely...who else would it be.'  
Then he drifted to the nothingness.


	2. Anthea

Anthea looked back from the driveway. 'Should I leave him alone? I hope he’ll sleep, I really do. Nothing is worst that over thinking, he tends to do that. Maybe I should stay...No, he wouldn’t like that. I don't want to be too clingy that would just drive him away; he'll close off even more. He promised he’ll be fine and I’ll be back in the morning. He’ll be fine.'

Anthea was out with her friends later in the evening, when she got the text. She read it and immediately dialled Mycroft.  
'Come on, pick up. Pick up. Come on, Mycroft!'  
She left her friends without a word, ran to her car calling an ambulance to Mycroft’s house. 'Stupid me, stupid me! I shouldn't have left him alone. I shouldn't...Please, don't let me be late. Please.' She was the first to arrive. The house was dark, and quiet; too quiet. She called out. "Mycroft!" there was no answer.   
She found Mycroft in the sitting room, there was blood everywhere and she knew immediately that it was too late.  
"NO, no, no. Why, Mycroft; why?"  
There was a note for her and a letter for Sherlock on the table.

'Anthea!  
It's not your fault, you have to remember this.   
Make sure that Sherlock is looked after.  
Thank you for everything.  
Mycroft'

Mycroft was taken away she remained in the empty room sitting in the other chair; tears were rolling down her face. She sent a text to John.  
'Don't leave him alone, not for a minute.'  
She wiped down her tears and called Sherlock.  
"What now? I've already checked on him, he doesn't..."  
"He dead."  
"Who?"  
"Your brother, he killed himself." there was no answer.  
"Sherlock? Sherlock listen to me don’t do anything stupid. Please just listen to John. I'll be there soon." still nothing, she put the phone down.  
Then she called Mrs. Holmes.  
"I'm sorry to bother you at this hour..."  
"What happened? Sherlock? Is he all right?"  
"He is, more or less."  
"No wonder."  
"This matter concerns your other child..."  
"Euros, what did they do to her?"  
"Nothing Ma'am."  
"Then what happened?"  
"Mycroft is dead."  
"He is what? No, he can’t be...What happened?"  
"He killed himself. I'm sorry."  
"NO! No, no, no. he can't...he wouldn't. No he...no..." she heard the phone crashing to the ground.

She drove to John's flat. He was sitting in the living room with an icepack on his eye, Mrs Hudson was with Rosie and Sherlock was lying on the sofa.  
"What happened?"  
"We had to sedate him. He was out of his mind."  
"Are you surprised?"  
"What happened? He said someone died."  
"Mycroft killed himself. After Sherrinford he was removed from his post, he couldn't cope with it...I shouldn't have left him on his own."  
"You couldn't have known."  
"I knew he wasn't fine...but this. THIS! How could he...I cared about him, he wouldn't believe me. I was there to help him..." she was crying, John sat with her.  
After a while Sherlock woke up.  
"I asked you to look after him."  
"Sherlock..." John tired to silence him, but he ignored it.  
"You promised you will look after HIM!"  
"I did Sherlock."  
"Clearly you didn't."  
"I was with him all day. I get him out of bed, I made sure he ate. I didn't let him drink, smoke, or to be pushed around by Lady Smallwood. I started to look up options for him, new job, therapists..."  
"You shouldn't have left him alone."  
"I only left him for the night."  
"Exactly, YOU LEFT HIM ON HIS OWN!"  
"He was your brother." she whispered. Sherlock just glared at her. "He was, Sherlock. It wasn't me who should have been there for him. You saw him, you said it yourself that he was in a horrible state. You should have talked with him; you should have been there for him. So don't you dare blame it on me. "  
"He wouldn't want me there."  
"He would, Sherlock, believe me. He needed you. Yes I was there, but that's not the same. After everything he only wanted to be with you, with his family, he wanted everything to be as it was. I sat there listening to him screaming in his sleep, begging for forgiveness, begging you not to shoot him or to do so. Why do you think I asked you to come and see him every day?” her tears started to fell again. "This is for you." she dropped the letter and walked out.  
John stopped her at the door. "I don't think you should drive now, I’ll call a cab for you."  
"I'm fine. Look after him; John. Don't let him do anything to himself. I'll arrange everything. "

At first she just drove around the city aimlessly, until she ended up in front of Mycroft's house. She went in, standing in front of the bloody chair.  
"You bastard, you selfish bastard. You’re idiot. How could you do this to me? Hmm? I never saw you back out of a challenge, never! You always found a way, ALWAYS! So why now? There was no need for this! I was here for you, you could have said something; you should have! I could've helped, we could have found a way. I'm sorry. I was here to help, there was no need for this...We could have found a way. We could...I'm sorry...sorry. I wish I could have helped. I'm sorry." She picked up the whiskey bottle; there was a letter under it.

'Anthea!  
Don't drink all of it; we both know that you don't tolerate alcohol well.  
I'm sorry that Sherlock yelled at you. He's just...well I don't really know what he feels right now.  
You have to remember that this isn't your fault. You did everything you could; even more and for that I'm eternally grateful. I would like to thank you for everything, I mean it. For your work and your help, thank you for tolerating me. Thank you for looking after me. Without you, who knows I might have ended up dead long ago.   
This wasn't a hasty decision; I examined the situation carefully from every angle, there was no other way. I lost everything, there’s nothing left for me. Everybody will be better off without me.  
Do not argue with me Anthea!  
Sherlock won't have to suffer by my involvement; I won't be able to disappoint my parents further. It'll be better for you too, normal work schedule, no emergencies in the middle of the night, you'll have more time for Henry. You'll have time for kids, you always wanted one; I know that, there is no point in deny it. And above all I won't have to sit here on my own, slowly losing my mind. I won't have to see my little brother run around with his newly appointed family, despising me. So you see everyone gets something out of my death. I know that it's selfish of me, but I spent my life making sure that others are happy and safe; I always did what was expected of me. Why can't I be selfish, just this once?   
Good luck with your future, I know you can do anything if you put your mind to it. Please make sure that Sherlock is fine, don't let him destroy himself.  
I'm sorry.  
Thank you for everything my dear.  
Mycroft'

"Don't argue with you?" she said to the empty room. "Of course I'll argue with you. For god's sake Mycroft! None of us will be better off without you. It'll take a great effort to keep your brother off the drugs. You should have seen him, he was furious and devastated, not relieved as you thought. Bloody hell, how could you think something like that to be true? I know that your relationship with your parents wasn't the best, but they love you, they would never wished you dead; you know that perfectly well or you should...Mycroft...I didn't mind any of that, you know that as well. You always saw through me, you know that I was fine; we made it work. How could you...Why didn't you talk to me? Why, Mycroft? Why? And yes this is party my fault. We should have sat down and talk. I should have brought your brother here and force the two of you to talk. I'm sorry."

 

Few days after the funeral she was in Mycroft's home office destroying files, notes, computers; everything that shouldn't get into the wrong hands. The doorbell rang; it was Lady Smallwood with a file.  
'Oh, they are already in trouble; they need him, pathetic.'  
"Good morning Lady Smallwood."  
"Good morning. I would like to speak with Mycroft."  
"Me too."  
"Where is he? It's an emergency!"  
"Then go and find a medium."  
"I don't understand."  
"Of course not." she slammed the door to her face.  
'Now they need him. They should have thought before they made the decision. It's their fault, all of it. It's their fault...'  
She finished in the office, collected the family pictures she’ll give them to Sherlock, took Mycroft's umbrella and closed the house.


	3. Sherlock

Sherlock called his parents; they were confused and furious; they wanted to talk to Mycroft immediately, but he was unreachable. Sherlock called Anthea to arrange transport for his parents. They were waiting in Mycroft's office in the morning, he was in a meeting, or that's what Anthea said. Finally he arrived. Mummy poured all her hatred onto Mycroft. Sherlock watched his brother closely, he just sat there resigned, letting her talk, not even trying to defend himself. Sherlock tried to defend him, but their mother wasn't listening. His brother was exhausted, he looked defeated, lost. 

Next day Sherlock was woken by his phone.  
"What?"  
"Morning Sherlock, have you seen your brother?"  
"Yesterday, yes."  
"I think you should check on him, maybe bring him something to eat."  
"Why don't you go?"  
"Because he is your brother, and after everything he would appreciate it."  
"I don't think so."  
"Sherlock, I know he would."  
"Fine."  
In the afternoon Sherlock finally went to see his brother. He rang the bell, but there was no answer, he opened the door anxiously. The house was quiet; Mycroft wasn't in the sitting room, nor in his office. Sherlock found him in the bedroom, still sleeping. 'Mycroft, sleeping, at this hour!'  
He pulled open the curtains.  
"Mycroft are you awake?"  
"Now I am Sherlock. What do you want?"  
'God, he sounds and looks awful, his voice is so weak, dark circles under his eyes, his gaze couldn't settle on one thing, he is too pale...What's wrong with him? Sherrinford? Can't be, he saw worst than that, he went through worst things. Did Mummy's words affect him that badly?'  
"I brought you food."  
"Very kind of her, I'll eat it later, please let me sleep."  
'I know you won't eat it. Most likely you will drink and smoke. I have to talk to Anthea, she can look after him. Someone has to, he won't accept it from me.'  
"As you wish." he was on his way out.  
"Sherlock, curtain!"  
'No, no. You have to get out of the bed brother mine.'

Sherlock called Anthea in the evening.  
"You have to look after him."  
"Have to?"  
"He's not fine. I'm worried."  
"Why don't you do it? He's your brother."  
"You've been doing it for ages, you are unemployed. What else would you do with your time?" Sherlock put down the phone not waiting for an answer. He knew that she'll do it.

 

Anthea called and texted him several times, but the renovation of the flat has started and Sherlock was busy with that and with Rosie.  
Sherlock landed on the sofa with a grunt.  
"What is it? John asked.  
"Anthea. She keeps calling and texting. I can't go over every time they have an argument."  
"How do you know that's what she wants?"  
"What else would it be? Mycroft doesn't like obeying orders. Anyhow they always argue, like an old married couple."  
"Maybe you should go."  
"Nope, she can handle him, she is the only one." 

Sherlock was deep in his thought; John and Mrs Hudson were watching TV, when John's phone rang. Then after a while it rang again.  
"Why is everyone texting me to look after you?" John asked with annoyance.  
"No idea."  
Sherlock's phone rang; when the call ended he stood up. "Idiot! How could he..."  
"Sherlock? What happened?"  
"My..." he was pacing.  
"What?"  
"Dead."  
"Who is dead?"  
"My. Which word you don't understand!" he was shouting.  
"Sherlock, Sherlock! Sit down. Please."  
"You want me to CALM DOWN!" he hit John. They were struggling on the ground, when suddenly Sherlock went numb. John crawled out from under him. "Sherlock?"  
Mrs. Hudson was standing behind him with a syringe. "He wouldn't have calmed down."  
"Thank you."  
"What happened?"  
"I'm not sure."

 

After Anthea left, John was drinking tea and watching Sherlock.  
'Jesus, what will I do with Sherlock? Mycroft Holmes...why? Why? Why did you do this me? What were you thinking, or why weren't you thinking? We can't leave him alone, not for a minute. I can't stay home and watch him 24/7. I have to ask the others, together we might be able to watch him; if they are willing to help. Maybe I should send him down to his parents. That might help, but he can run off easily from there too. But maybe they can reason with him... '  
Sherlock just sat there staring at him. "I'm sorry Sherlock."  
"Why would he do that?" he whispered.  
"They fired him. He couldn't cope with it."  
"He didn't want to. He could have...easily. He simply didn't want to."  
"Sherlock, you have to promise me you won't do anything stupid. Please, don't. Please, for his sake."  
"He's dead, he can't care about it. He made it clear by checking out."  
"I know, but I'm here to care instead of him. If not for me, than do it for your parents sake. The last thing they need is another tragedy. And please don't blame Anthea, it's not her fault, she really tried..." Sherlock turned his back to him.

John took time off until the funeral to watch over Sherlock. During the day there was no problem with it. They were occupied with moving back to Baker Street and Rosie constantly demanded attention. John had no idea what to do with him during the nights. He can't just sedate him every time; a closed door wasn't a solution either. John made Sherlock promise he won't leave, and just hoped he will keep it. 

The funeral was a small one, only the family John and Anthea attended. There were no flowers, as he requested, it looked sad, only the black tombstone. Sherlock stayed behind, sitting on the ground he took out the letter.

'Sherlock!  
I love you.  
Mycroft'

Sherlock looked at the paper; he could see the imprints of previous letters. They were longer with lots of crossed out sentences. He just sat there re-reading the short note until he can't see it through his tears.  
"You are an idiot My. You could have called me. No wonder I can't see it, you were always hiding from me, you could fool me easily...I miss you, I really do. You have no idea how much it hurts...Please come back...Please let it be a fake suicide, please......I just want my brother back......Anthea said you were screaming in your sleep wanting me to kill you. I would never do that, you should know that. I would never...I'm sorry we didn't take care of you. I assumed you don't want me there, I was stupid, you clearly needed us... I'm sorry you felt like that your own family abandoned you. I'm sorry. You were always so strong, you've been through worst than this and I just assumed you'll be fine this time too. I assumed too much. I'm sorry...You don't know how much I want things to be as simple as it was in our childhood; playing pirates, you reading to me, teaching me deduction. I could always go to you, always with even my smallest problems. I'm sorry I made you feel like you can't do the same. You were always there for me, after everything I did or said to you; no matter what you were always there...I won't do anything stupid, don't worry, I promise; this time for real...I love you."  
His parents and John were waiting for him by the car

 

A few days after the funeral John called Anthea.  
"He's missing."  
"What?"  
"I went to put Rosie down and when I got back he wasn't here."  
"I'll go and look for him."  
Anthea checked all his usual places, but there was no sign of him. She finally found him in the grave yard; Sherlock was sitting on a bench.  
"Don't do this Sherlock, John is worried sick."  
"I can do whatever I want."  
"No you can't."  
"I'm sorry; I just needed to get away. John has me watched at all time. He can't sleep properly because he's afraid that I'll run away. He even moved Rosie to my room, hoping I won't leave her alone, which is true, I wouldn't do that to her. They made sure that someone can be with me all the time. Mostly it's Mrs. Hudson, but Molly and Lestrade come over on their day off."  
"It's understandable, you do need to be watched Sherlock."  
Silence fell. "So the word is out."  
"Yes, Lady Smallwood came over, they needed help. Can you believe it? First they fire him and then they want him to go and have tea, like nothing happened. After that she turned up with a file claiming it was an emergency."  
"She came to me after that, I sent her away."  
They sat in silence and watched as people cautiously approached the grave. They stopped for a moment, bowed their head dropped a single white rose and hurried away. The grave was covered with countless of white roses by the time they left.  
Anthea took Sherlock home.  
“Sherlock?” John yelled from the top of the stairs.  
“Yes John, it's me.” he went up to the flat. “I’m sorry John; it just felt like I was suffocating, you having me watched all the time; Lady Smallwood coming over demanding an answer and ordering me to help her. I promised I won’t do anything stupid, I really do. I have to admit that I thought of it, but wouldn't do that to you and Rosie, not again.”  
“Promise you won’t do this again. You can talk to me any time about anything. You know that.”  
“Can we talk now?” he whispered.  
“I put the kettle on.” they settled in the living room, John waited in silence.  
"Despite my behaviour I loved him, I wish I told him that...I really miss him. When he was around I was always annoyed by his involvement. But he was just looking after me...as always. He always protected me, in school, at home, he kept most of my mistakes from our parents...he did everything for me...In return I...He was always there and now he is gone...I had no idea how much I'll miss him...He died alone, depressed, without recognition...he deserved much better. He deserved happiness, he deserved to be loved, but he didn't get it from us, we left him on his own. He was always so lonely, he never had friends, no one was there for him; I just assumed that he got used to it. He said it himself that he was not lonely that he was fine. But indeed he was lonely, terribly. I should have seen it, I should have helped him. This was my fault too. I should have gone over when Anthea called, this might have been avoided..." he fell silent, looking at John.  
"It might have been." they sat in silence for a while.  
"I think I'll go down to my parents for the weekend. I can take Rosie with me, so you can rest. I know that you don't sleep, you always worry about me. I can see that you need it, don't deny it."  
"Thank you. That would be nice."


	4. Holmes parents

Mrs. Holmes was woken by Sherlock's call.  
"What is it Sherlock dear?"  
"My sister is alive."  
"What? How do you know...do you remember her? She died in a fire years ago."  
"That's what Uncle Rudy and Mycroft said."  
"Mycroft?"  
"With Uncle Rudy."  
"Of course with him. She is alive?"  
"Yes, I just met her."  
"How could she...? How could they...I mean...years! All those years...Where is she? I want to see her! I have to talk to Mycroft, now! I'll call you back."  
She tried to call Mycroft but his phone was turned off, so she called back Sherlock.  
"He won't pick up his phone. Where is he?"  
"I don't know, we got separated, but Lestrade said he is fine."  
"I don't care how he is; I need to talk to him."  
"I assume his in the office, cleaning up the mess."  
"What mess?"  
"I'll tell you when you get here. I asked Anthea to send a helicopter for you."  
"Thank you dear. Are you all right?"  
"We are fine."  
"Good, see you soon."  
She woke up her husband.  
"What is it?"  
"She is alive."  
"Who?" he asked sleepily.  
"Our daughter."  
"No dear, it was just a dream."  
"No, Sherlock called me, Mycroft and my brother hid her."  
"They did what! What did Mycroft said?"  
"I can't reach him. After this he tries to hide from us, oh he won’t. They are sending a helicopter, so get up and get ready." she went to get dressed and kept mumbling.

 

When they got to London Sherlock told her some of the events from the previous days; how he found out about Euros; how she blow up Baker street; they journey to Sherrinford and part of the events that took place there and the happenings in Musgrave. He didn't tell her about the governor, the brothers, or pointing a gun at Mycroft's head.  
"Where is he?" she asked for the hundred times.  
"Still on a meeting."  
"Or he's just hiding from us. Well no good, I won't leave until I talk to him. Tell the girl to tell him to hurry up."  
Finally Mycroft turned up.

 

She stormed out of Mycroft’s office with her husband at her heal; Sherlock followed them reluctantly.  
"Idiot boy...Are you all right my dear? This must be pretty hard on you, finding out that you have a sister."  
"Who is a murderer." Sherlock mumbled.  
"You'll have to talk to Mycroft, change his mind I want to see her. She need us, she was closed up all her life, on her own...how could he do that to her? To his own sister! I wish he knew how it feels; being alone, unloved, living a life knowing that his own family abandoned him. How could he be so stupid?"  
"Mummy..."  
"We better be going. You need to rest, yes; you look tired my dear. Give my love to John and Rosie. I'm glad that you are fine, take care Sherlock."

 

They got home, sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea.  
"I just can't understand how he could do this."  
"Your brother just tried to help."  
"I'm talking about Mycroft! My brother was a bad influence on him, I shouldn't have let him took hold of Mycroft. Once he found out that he was clever, that he could solve every problem he gave him, learn every language he wanted from Mycroft, he wouldn't let go of him. And Mycroft did everything to make him proud. He turned my boy into himself."  
"Mycroft did it to make you proud, not your brother. He looked up to you; he did everything so you'll notice him. Yes he was clever, he was just a little child, he only wanted a bit of recognition for it; but all he got in school was mockery, and at home you took his mind granted. It wasn't enough from me, he wanted it from you, but you were travelling, teaching not much around. After Sherlock was born you stayed home, but the baby needed all the attention and then came Euros; so he was left out again."  
"He never said anything; he came home, played with Sherlock and went to his room, same thing every day. He never mentioned that he had problems with it."  
"He gave up with trying. After Euros was taken away he closed off; even I couldn't get through him after that."  
"I see you are on his side. He closed our daughter away and lied about it! His own sister!"  
"There are no sides here. They just tried to help, tried to save us from our daughter; who killed Sherlock's best friend and tried to burn us alive. It was your brother's decision; Mycroft was only 13 back then, what could he do? He just continued what Rudy started."  
"She is my daughter!"  
"And mine too, but we couldn't control her when she was just a child. Of course I'm not happy about it, but please just think about it..."  
"He lied to us, if he lied about this; God knows what else he lied about! We haven't raised him to be a liar. He could have told us after Rudolph died; there was no one to prevent him doing so. I still can't understand why...They could have told us, that she was alive; there was no need in hiding her. I understand that a more secure place was necessary, for her sake; but we could have visited, talked to her. If Sherlock hasn't found out about it, she would have been on her own for the rest of her life. I hope they visited her at least. She was just a little girl, away from her family, her home; she must have blamed us...my poor baby."  
She spent the next days mumbling and ignoring her husband.

 

She was about to go to bed when Anthea called, the receiver fell out off her hand.  
"No, no, no!"  
"What happened?"  
"Mycroft killed himself." she whispered.  
"No." he hugged her tightly. "Why would he do that?"  
"I don't know, I don't know." They stood there crying for a while. "Why now? Finally I got everyone back and now this! I want him back, I want our family back. Why can't we be normal...Oh Mycroft, my dear boy. Why? Why didn't he...It's not fair."  
"No, it's not."  
"He should have lived a long life, a happy one, he should have been there after we’re gone, looking after Sherlock, Oh Sherlock what will we do with him......He was lonely, he must have felt miserable and I only made it worst. I said such horrid things, I didn't mean it; not a single word of it...I just want him back."  
"Me too, me too."  
"We lost our daughter; my brother killed himself; then after all those years we got Euros back; and now Mycroft is gone...Why?...WHY?...I love him, he knew that...He did, am I right?"  
"I hope so, I didn't know what was going on with him; none of us did. We accepted his choice about distancing himself, not calling or visiting...we thought that's what he wanted. We were wrong; so wrong. We shouldn't have left him on his own."  
"How did we end up here?"  
"I don't know."  
"It's my fault, you said it yourself. I should have appreciated him better; I should have told him that I love him. I should have listened to what he had to say, really listen. Call him and tell him that we understand, that we forgave him and that we love him no matter what. We should have gone and see him...We should have stayed with him, he is our son, and I treated him...I shouldn't have said it, none of it was true...Oh my son..."

 

The sky was gray, clouds gathered but there was no rain, not yet. They were standing by the car waiting for Sherlock to join them.  
"I still don't understand why we couldn’t bring flowers."  
"He didn't want it."  
"But it looks so sad, empty, like he had no one."  
"It would look like that with flowers too."  
"Yes you are right. I was surprised that so few people turned up."  
"No one knows he's dead; I made sure it stays a secret." Anthea answered.  
"Why?"  
"Why not? None of them cared about him, not a bit. I didn't want them standing around, pretending to care when in reality they are happy that he's gone."  
"What about Sherlock? What are we going to do about him?"  
"I already asked the others, we'll try and keep an eye on him at all time. Hopefully that'll be enough. Although he is pretty shaken up." John answered.  
"They were always so close, as they got older they tried to hide it, but they were. They would do anything for the other. What if it won't work?"  
"I don't know I'm out of ideas."

 

Sherlock arrived with Rosie, his dad greeted them.  
“How are you Dad?”  
“I don’t know, some days are better than others.”  
"Where is Mummy?"  
"Upstairs, she started to clean the whole house. She needs some distraction."  
"I'll go and talk to her. Would you take her?"  
"Sure." he handed Rosie to his father and went to look for his mother. She was in Mycroft's old room, sitting on the bed going through photographs.  
"Oh you are here! Look it's when we brought you home." she looked at him with tears in her eyes; Sherlock sat next to her and hugged her.  
"Was it my fault?"  
"It was ours. After everything he was left on his own, he was fired so he had the time to think. And he did, too much. Anthea was there, she tried everything but it wasn't enough."  
"My brother and Mycroft were so much alike, but I hoped not this much. I said such horrible things to him; I was just angry, people say stupid thing when they are angry; but I didn't mean it, not a single word of it. I loved him no matter what, I should have told him. I wanted to call him when I calmed down, but I didn't know what to say, we never talked that much. He always kept to himself; he was quiet, a bit distant. I was too young when we had him. I always wanted children, but I also wanted to have a career. So Mycroft stayed home with your father while I travelled and taught around the word. He had to grow up too fast, he needed us...I loved him, but I didn't show it enough...maybe if I'd stayed...After the incident only my brother could connect with him. I tried, but we didn't have much to talk about...I have to admit, that I haven't tried enough. You were born, then Euros......Look, his first day at school! I miss him so much."  
"I miss him too."  
"Do you remember this?" she showed him another picture. "You made him dress up as a pirate. You two were always so close, inseparable, until he left for school...after that...you two were always bickering, arguing. Like here, when he came home for Christmas; both of you sulking under the tree. You were arguing, shouting the whole time he was home. He loved you very much, no matter what. He would do anything for you, anything to protect you. I remember finding you sleeping in his arms, because you had a nightmare, or he came home beaten up because he had to protect you in school; or when your chemistry experiment went wrong and destroyed my great grandmother's tapestry; and there were more.  
"You knew?"  
"Of course my dear. What will I do with you now?" she smiled at Sherlock stroking his face.  
"I won't do that Mummy, I promised him and John, I won't."  
"Thank you. How are you?”  
“Not good, I miss him terribly. But Rosie needs looking after, Lestrade already needs help so at least that occupy’s my mind.”  
“Good, that’s good. Oh look, our last Christmas together..." they continued to watch through the photos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got to the end of it. Thank you for reading, and for the comments too.


End file.
